Page 19 of Pray for Scars
“Lucifer,” she says softly.
And all that anger I feel toward Maverick, toward my father, toward the 6…it all vanishes, just for an instant, at the sound of her soft, low voice.
I inhale.
Exhale.
Maverick’s eyes are rolling back in his head.
“Lucifer,” she says again, a little more urgently. “Don’t.”
And then the anger is back. I whirl around, dropping the lamp to the floor with a clatter, my back to Mav as I hear him gasping.
“What?” I snarl at her. “You wanna fuck him again, is that it?”
She narrows her eyes, her hands balled into fists, knees up to her chest.
I step to the bed as Mav still catches his breath behind me. “Was it your idea?” I demand, leaning down, my palms pressed against the bed. “You wanted his dick inside youagain,Lilith?”
“What do you want from me?” she asks, and her voice again…
I step away from the bed, run my hands through my hair, pulling as I close my eyes a minute.
What do I want from you?
Everything.
Every-fucking-thing.
Your life. Your heart. Your fucking soul. All of it. I want it. I want you. Covered in my blood, bound to me in yours.
My eyes flash open.
She’s still staring at me, her beautiful silver eyes bloodshot, her hair a mess around her face. She’s hollower than the last time I saw her, two weeks ago.
I turn away from her, glare at Mav, who has his hands on his throat, massaging it.
I take a breath. I shouldn’t have attacked Maverick. Make her think I care. Make her believe I can fix this.
God, I wish I could.
“You can fuck the girl later. We need to talk,” I snap at Mav.
The girl.
What my father calls her.
That’s what she’s got to be to me, if I wanna get out of this alive. With my heart intact. Because she’s not.
She’s not gonna make it out of this, not unless she listens to me, and she never fucking does. She’s too stubborn for that. Hardheaded, defiant, tough as fucking nails.
And that’s why I think I could love this girl. That’s why I think I would let my father gut me with a fucking dull blade before I let him put a hand on her.
And that’s why I need this to end.
Maverick heads down his winding staircase ahead of me and I have the urge to shove him over the banister and listen to his neck crack. But instead, I dig my nails into my palms and follow him down. When we get to the foyer, he turns and grins at me, high as fuck.
Bastard.
